


Some You Give Away

by My2krazies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My2krazies/pseuds/My2krazies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione give Harry and Charlie a Christmas gift. No matter how much it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ron's POV

I’ve watched him since I’ve known him. It started with chocolate frogs, progressed to wild adventures, and then one night we fell into bed together. I was ecstatic, but I knew, even then, that he didn’t know. He’s never known. And people call _me_ oblivious.  


I couldn’t tell you when I fell in love with him. It could have been when we battled a Mountain Troll together, or sometime during the flying trip to Hogwarts, or maybe it was when I was waiting for him to bring my baby sister back to me. I’ve never been able to pinpoint it, but it feels like it’s been forever.  


People assume that my anger towards him has always been jealousy. I let them think that. They assume that I was jealous when his name came out of the cup. Honestly, I was terrified. I was angry; I hated that he had entered and not told me! I would have tried to talk him out of it. When he denied entering the stupid tournament, my fear tripled. I’ve never been as slow as everyone assumes I am…. I knew in that moment that something horrible was going to happen. I was terrified and in my naïve stupidity I took my fear out on him. I replaced it with anger and jealousy and lashed out at the one person I should have been pulling in closer. Maybe that’s why things have turned out the way they have.  


He thought I didn’t notice, but then again he never knew how I watched him. It started simple enough: a quick glance, a subtle blush, a random question about his wellbeing. I knew what it would lead to, and I couldn’t help but blame myself. Maybe if I had handled my own emotions better, his interest would be in me – rather than my brother.  


He never told me, but I’m certain that he knows I know. Somehow, it became one of the few forbidden topics between us. Even as we lay together in the aftermath of a glorious orgasm, I know his heart is elsewhere.  


I know that I’m not the one who stars in his dreams and that the mumbled name that falls from his delicious lips is not my own. I watch, my heart breaking, as he smiles and whispers of love and commitment and satisfaction. I watch, wishing that I held his heart as he holds mine.  


..::..::..::..::..::..::  


We sit quietly in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express – our final Christmas Holiday as students. I’m amazed we made it this far. After our first year I wondered how long the ‘Golden Trio’ would live. Our adventures are legendary and usually disastrous to our health.  


I sit next to Hermione and watch him sleep; his sleep has been riddled with nightmares since that blasted tournament. The final task, the night when he defeated Voldemort for good. The night that he came to me for comfort. The night that we began our twisted nocturnal relationship. I dare not ask if he came to me because I’m the closest he can get to him.  


I was pleased that he came to me and thrilled to know that I was the only one he had been with – even as I knew that he would eventually leave me. I sigh because I know that the end is drawing near.  


I look to my left and flash the wonderful woman next to me a sad smile. I know her secret, and she knows mine. I take her hand and lace our fingers together as we continue to watch our love. I indulge in selfish thoughts of how I had at least been with him, while she had not. Our love had never been inclined towards women; Ginny had sulked endlessly when she found out.  


Hermione lays her head on my shoulder and sighs softly as his thrashing quiets and his dreams take a turn. A mumbled name slips from his lips and she stares. The name had been distinguishable – now she knows as well.  


“It’s him?” she asks.  


I nod. “It’s always been him. Since fourth year,” I say quietly.  


“I’m sorry, love,” she says. And somehow I know she means it. She hates that we both hurt over a love we will never have.  


“He’s going to be there this year,” I tell her. “We should do something.”  


She chuckles shortly. “What can we do? Is he even interested in our Harry?”  


I nod once. “He watches.”  


“Okay, then.”  


..::..::..::..::..::..::  


I always dread the day before Christmas Eve. My family calls it a memorial day. A day to remember the fallen. I call it morbid and depressing. Every day spent as Harry’s friend reminds me of everyone we’ve lost. We don’t really need a day dedicated to grief.  


The Burrow is as full as ever: a sea of redheads with a spattering of brown, black and white. I find it amusing that brown, such a common color, sticks out as odd here. The kitchen is too small, so dinner is held in the garden under warming charms and fairy lights.  


He looks beautiful, his eyes shining with suppressed emotions, as he watches my brother, who is perched on a chair next to Bill. A small smile graces his lips and his green eyes sparkle, reminding me slightly of the Headmaster, who is surprisingly joining us tonight.  


He told me once that in life we have to take every available chance to celebrate. How he knows what’s going to happen before it does I’ll never know, but sure enough there’s a bit of celebration tonight. An engagement. Who knew Bill could land a Veela?  


I watch him as he watches my brother and feel a soft hand grasp mine and squeeze gently. I tear my eyes away and they fall upon the chocolate brown of my fellow sufferer.  


“Tonight,” she says quietly in my ear. I’m surprised by the shivers that run though my body and the sudden arousal that accosts me. Only one has ever caused that reaction.  


I nod and turn back to watching. I chuckle quietly as Charlie looks up and catches Harry staring. Neither of them has any sense of subtly. It amazes me that no one else has caught on yet. They constantly try to watch the other without being noticed. This should be easy.  


..::..::..::..::..::..::  


The guests have left, leaving only the Weasley family along with Harry and Hermione – although I guess you could say that they are family as well.  
Harry had moved in after fourth year. With Voldemort gone he no longer needed the protection of the Dursleys. Sirius had finally been freed, but is in a required three-year mental health rehabilitation. He’ll be finished at the end of the year.  


Hermione was here often enough that she had finally been given her own room. We converted the attic into two small bedrooms. They never complained about the size, and Harry never migrated to another bed in this house. He claimed it was disrespectful, but I think he just doesn’t want anybody to know. He’s afraid that if they do his chances with the one he wants will be shot. I hate that I agree with him….  


I can’t fault him for loving my brother. Everyone does. With his laidback, friendly attitude and quiet charm, it’s somewhat amazing that he’s still single. But then again, not many people are willing to share him. Harry’s different. He’s willing to share – if only because he understands.  
Harry understands and shares the love of dragons. Maybe that’s the connection that I don’t have; maybe I just can’t ever understand that urge. Ever since the first task, Harry has been obsessed with dragons. Maybe they just understand each other in ways that I never could.  


It’s late, and my love is lying on a rug in front of the fire. He has his books spread out in front of him and a warm butterbeer cradled in his left hand. He studies endlessly these days. N.E.W.T.s are coming soon, and he refuses to lose his dream job because of low test scores. He’s determined to go play with dragons.  
Charlie is sitting in the center of a threadbare sofa, sipping a snifter of Firewhisky, watching. I turn to Hermione and tilt my head in his direction, an unasked question in my eyes. Her gaze shifts from me, to Charlie, to Harry, and back. She nods twice and moves across the room to sit on Charlie’s left; I move forward and perch myself stiffly at his right.  


Charlie’s eyes never stray from the beautiful figure lying in front of the fire, and I know that I have to do this – I have to say something. A subtle flick of my wand surrounds the sofa with a privacy charm, ensuring that Harry remains ignorant of this conversation.  


“He’s in love with you,” I say quickly, knowing that if I stall I will never be able to do this.  


Charlie starts and his gaze whips to my face. His eyes hold questions, fear, and hope.  


Hermione reaches her hand over to grasp Charlie’s. “He is,” she agrees. “It’s always been you.”  


“Are you sure?” he asks quietly, his body stiff with tension.  


I chuckle and slip an arm around his shoulders. “Yes,” I say firmly. “I’m sure.”  


“Since when?”  


“Fourth year.”  


Charlie gasps quietly. I can understand his surprise.  


“He loves you,” I say. “When Harry loves, he loves completely. He never does something halfway,” I explain, and try to keep certain images out of my head. I know for a fact that halfway isn’t possible for him.  


“Why…?” Charlie trails off, his eyes glued to our love.  


Hermione fills in the silence. “Didn’t he say anything?”  


A nod is our only answer.  


“He was scared,” I say simply.  


..::..::..::..::..::..::  


I watch them, but this time I’m not alone. Hermione’s sitting next to me, holding my hand. I glance at her and the small smile on my face is mirrored on hers. They are standing together beside the shed. The full moon reflecting off the snow illuminates them as if it were day.  


It hadn’t taken long after we talked to Charlie for him to drag Harry outside for a conversation. We can’t hear the words, but the emotions reflected on Harry’s face are enough. The sheer happiness shining from his eyes, a sight so rare that it is to be cherished, tells us that our love has finally been given a chance.  


They talk for hours and I wonder what they are saying. We watch as the emotions filter. At one point I see fear and reluctance cross Harry’s face. Jealousy and anger cross Charlie’s and he nearly leaves Harry standing there alone; Harry grabs his arm and begs. Charlie reluctantly turns back and listens. I wonder what exactly they are talking about, but I am fairly certain that Harry is telling him about me.  


I can see the tears falling from emerald eyes and long to wipe them away, but I know that is not my place. Rough hands reach forward and erase their trails from his cheeks and I close my eyes, willing myself to be happy for them.  


When I look again, they are close, embracing as their lips meet, and I can see their passion as Harry’s hands curl into Charlie’s shaggy hair. It’s a passion that has always been missing from our encounters, and I know. I know that we did the right thing; I gave Harry the best Christmas gift I could. My breathing hitches and I allow a single tear to fall before I turn away and drag Hermione with me to my room, where we seek to chase away the pain together.  


..::..::..::..::..::..::  


It’s Christmas Eve and we’re sitting at the table. Last night had been surprisingly wonderful. I’ve never been with a female before, and Hermione has never been with anyone. I wonder slightly if I’ll always be cursed to be the ‘comfort’ but, when I look into her eyes, I find myself hoping that I’ll be more.  
She smiles shyly at me and blushes slightly when I smile back. Maybe this can work.  


We’re quiet as Harry and Charlie enter together: both wearing their Weasley jumper and a pair of cotton sleep pants, a matching smile on their lips and their hands joined. I’m not sure if they’ve even noticed us as their lips meet once again in a tender, loving kiss before they sit next to each other and ignore the slightly surprised questions coming from the rest of our family.  


I mourn quietly until I feel a hand grasp mine, and then I look up and smile at Hermione. Maybe together we will be able to move past our love.  


..::..::..::..::..::..::  


It’s late, and I’m watching them again. Charlie is sitting in his favorite armchair next to the fire with Harry perched comfortably in his lap. They’re reading a book with a Welsh Green flying across the front cover. Charlie’s eyes are alight with amusement, and Harry is captivated as he listens to Charlie pointing out various facts and myths.  


I smile softly as Hermione joins me on the sofa and leans against my side.  


“He’s happy,” she says.  


“He is,” I agree.  


“I’m glad.”  


“Me too.”  


I wrap my arm around her and we watch, quietly, as I wonder if maybe my pushing Charlie in the right direction has given me a wonderful gift as well.  


Somehow I know that this Christmas changes everything. Harry will always be our best friend, and we will always do anything we can for him, but I think we just gave him away. His care is now coming from my brother, and I’m happy that I, at least, know he is capable. I know, because Charlie is the same. He’s wild and free, and matches Harry in a way that I never could.  


See, I’ve never had a desire to run away from everything I’ve ever known.  


I want to settle down and build a life. Harry wants to escape the pressure of his. Maybe together Harry and Charlie will find their balance, and dragons will become a career rather than an escape.


	2. Chapter 2

His gaze burns me and serves as a constant reminder of where I stand. I'm his love; he's my crutch.

I've always felt his stares. They began the second I introduced myself; he asked to see the scar and, for a second, I resented him. In that millisecond I was convinced that he would be one of the rabid fans I had already met, but I was surprised by the instant friendship. Just add chocolate; it was so Ron.

Over the years, his stares have morphed; their intensity has magnified, and it took me a long time to understand the difference. Or not really, it just took me a long time to admit it – even to myself. I still haven't admitted it out loud; I'll claim ignorance as long as possible. I can't – won't willingly hurt him.

He's everything I should want. Everything I should love and I hate that I don't. I want to, I've tried to, I've just never quite managed it. He's loyal, and amusing, and intelligent, although he rarely lets it show. He's just not at all what I want; or need, and I hate myself for not loving him the way he loves me. Unfortunately, I gave my heart away a long time ago, and no matter how desperately I wish it, I can't change how I feel. I can't force my love to be returned, just as I can't force myself to return his. I loathe myself sometimes.

I wish, every night, that I could give to my best friend exactly what he wants. I wish it could be him, rather than his brother. I wish that I didn't know exactly how much I hurt him, but I do, and I promise myself every time that I won't go to him again. Not until I can give myself to him entirely, but I never keep that promise. I'm too weak, and sometimes I tell myself that it's ok. That Ron doesn't mind. That he knows I'll never truly be his. Those are the nights I hate myself the most.

I vividly remember the first night. The night that I gave him hope for something that can never be; the night that I truly wish I could take back. I went to him, not for sex (even though that's what happened) but for comfort. I was desperate for some sense of normalcy in a world gone crazy.

I was fourteen and had somehow managed to not only survive the resurrection of Voldemort, but defeat him once again. This time he was dead, body and all. No coming back. The aftermath appalled me. Everyone seemed to forget that Cedric Diggory had been murdered. They seemed to forget that I, their savior, was just a boy. A scared, lost little boy who needed someone to tell him that everything would be ok.

He promised me that night that he would always take care of me. That in lieu of any family that I may or may not have it was his job. "You take care of everyone, Harry," he said quietly. "Let me take care of you. I'll always be here. No matter what."

It was the first time, although not the last, that we slept together. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, but somehow it reaffirmed that I was alive, and that I would survive, and that I wasn't alone.

We were clumsy and quick, the sex itself was messy and painful, but afterwards he held me tightly and whispered of love and promises and future. I let him and tried not to imagine a different voice, because even then my heart belonged to another. Someone far away, without even an idea of how desperately I wanted him by my side that night. I hated myself more in that moment than I ever thought possible.

As I fell into sleep, my dreams were filled with dragons and a different red head, and I wished that the arms around me were longer, and stronger, and scarred. I woke before him, and cried silently, wishing I were better, or stronger, or deserving of what he was so obviously offering. I wished I could escape, and leave my best friend to live his life without the heartbreak that I knew I would eventually inflict upon him. The world never knew how close they were to losing me that morning, and if it weren't for the strong arms locked around me, I'm not sure what I would have done.

I've tried to ignore it, push the obsession to the back of my mind. I don't want to think about him, or try to examine why I feel the way I do about a man I've only been around a handful of times. I know, I'm not sure how, but I know that he's it for me. I love him, probably since the first time I met him, and I can't imagine a future with anyone else. Maybe that's why I'm so nervous right now. I know I'll be seeing him soon, and I despair the thought that someone may catch on.

..::..::..::..::..::..::

The night before Christmas Eve is always a big production at the Burrow. It's the night that family and friends gather to enjoy Molly's cooking, and celebrate the fallen or lost. We remember Cedric, Mum, Dad, everyone lost in the first war. I'm not sure when exactly it became a memorial day, but it feels right. We should honor them, especially during a time of year so steeped in family and tradition. I should thank whoever thought of it.

Tonight's celebration is overcrowded, and the Weasley's have really outdone themselves. The tables are set under a warming dome and the fairies chase each other in a merry dance of lights. It's like living in a fairytale, and I'm thrilled when Bill announces his engagement. Something happy to celebrate on our own personal holiday.

I take the time to watch him, praying that he doesn't notice. He's caught me quite a few times in the past, but maybe I'll get lucky tonight. He's draped gracefully on a chair next to Bill, and I wonder how he does it. Does he purposefully display himself, or is it just his natural grace and power that attracts my attention?

His eyes flicker towards me and I feel my face heat as I'm again caught staring. I'm surprised by the bright smile he flashes at me, and I can't control the hitch in my breath as he continues to meet my eyes. He's gorgeous. I force myself to look away before I give anything away. He can't know how I feel; I'd never survive the rejection.

Trying not to look back at him, I glance to my left and am surprised to see Ron and Hermione with their hands joined. A surge of irrational jealousy strikes me before I quickly convince myself that this is a good thing. I hope with everything I have that he has finally found someone who can love him the way he deserves.

I also hope that he'll still be there when I need him. I sicken myself.

..::..::..::..::..::..::

Another sleepless night seems to be in my future. Rather than waste the time lying restlessly in my room I spread my books out in front of the fire and sip a warm Butterbeer as I force myself to study.

I was amazed when I found out how many N.E.W.T.s are required to become a dragon keeper. It makes sense in a way, but I really don't understand how Transfiguration is so important. Unfortunately for me, it's my weakest subject; the one subject I'm not sure I can obtain an acceptable score for my dream job. So I've studied more these past few months than I ever have in my life. I will not risk my future over a low score.

His gaze is on me, but I refuse to look away from my books. If I don't look I can hope and pretend that they belong to anyone I choose. In my mind, Charlie is watching me the same as I watch him, wishing he knew how to approach me. I can delude myself for a little while.

Sadly, to him, I will always be Harry Potter, his littlest brother's best friend. The small, unsightly, little boy who fell out of the floo the summer of the World Cup.

The room is silent, other than the crackling of the fire and the turning of pages as I continue to study about inanimate to animate transfiguration. As I turn to the third law Elward, I lose my concentration and allow myself a peek. My curiosity has always gotten me in trouble.

A quick flick of my eyes shows that Hermione is sitting on the sofa with Charlie, her hand tightly grasping his as she speaks. That's when I realize that she and Charlie are behind a privacy charm. From the angle I'm at I can't see who is sitting on Charlie's other side, but the sight of him sitting with her causes more pain than they'll ever know.

What is she doing? Moving through the entire Weasley family until she finds one to her liking? Is she purposely trying to make me miserable? I want to hate her, but I can't because she's Hermione and she's never once in her life been purposefully cruel. Besides, she doesn't know. I've gone through great pains to ensure that nobody knows. Except Ron, and I never told him. My breaths are coming in quiet gasps and I hate that she's taken even the illusion of a possibility from me.

Charlie looks at me and I shift to see him fully as his eyes remain glued to mine. I see that it's Ron on his other side and he's resolutely studying the two of them. I swallow thickly, refusing to allow the pain to show, and study Charlie for exactly three seconds. I want to burn this expression into my memory, so that later I can come back to it and pretend that I put it onto his face. He has always been attractive, but in this moment, with the myriad of emotions flickering across his face the only word I can use to describe him is beautiful, and I want to remember it always.

I turn back to my books and force myself to concentrate on the third law, and how the internal organs of animate objects must be protected when transfiguring into inanimate objects. I need to learn this. I have to remember, but then I start to think of why I need to learn and remember and …..N.E.W.T.S…dragons….dragon preserve….Romania….CHARLIE!

I curse myself silently. There are other dragon preserves. Maybe I'll apply to the one in Iceland, or maybe the hidden island outside of Hawaii. I don't have to go to Romania, and honestly it would be easier if I didn't. I don't think I can handle seeing him nearly every day and knowing that I can never be with him….maybe I should rethink dragons. I could always…..

Or maybe…

What about…

I sigh and once more allow my eyes to quickly flick towards the trio on the sofa. They're all staring at me now and it makes me nervous. I shift uncomfortably, wondering if Ron said something. Wondering if he finally got tired of being second best in my mind and decided to show me how one-sided my affections are.

I'm just beginning to wonder if I should save myself any further humiliation and return to Hogwarts for the remainder of the holiday when the privacy charm falls and Charlie separates himself from the other two.

I try not to notice. I try to force myself to concentrate, but somehow, inexplicably, I know without looking that Charlie is now sitting in his favorite armchair next to the fire. His booted feet are sitting on the same rug I'm lying on. I'm pathetic enough that those feet further distract me from my studies.

..::..::..::..::..::..::

I've given up. I can't study with him sitting there. Especially now that I know Ron and Hermione are sitting together rather closely on the sofa. I have no idea what is going on, and I've almost convinced myself that the three of them were planning something – maybe I should just go to bed and let them get on with it. I have the distinct feeling that they are waiting for me to leave. I groan internally, hoping that it's nothing while trying to ignore the niggling worry that the newest triad had just been established.

I begin to close my books and pack my notes away when Charlie shifts.

"Harry, can we talk?" He asks as he rises from his chair.

"Um…sure," I say quietly, trying not to show my apprehension. "What's up?"

Charlie glances around the room. I follow his gaze and see that Ron and Hermione are staring at us. "Privately," he says before he grasps my arm and pulls me outside.

As we leave the house, he loosens his grasp and gently guides me towards the shed, where he immediately casts a small warming dome. Between the full moon and glistening snow, I can reluctantly admit this could be an incredibly romantic setting, that is, if I hadn't been dragged out here to have my heart broken.

I study Charlie as he avoids meeting my eyes, he's flushed and fidgeting. His typical calm is interrupted by unusual nerves and I marvel. I've never seen him so…distracted before.

A shadow of a smile graces my lips. I like that he's slightly vulnerable and that he seems to be ok with showing it to me, but, at the same time, his nerves agitate me. I'm not used to him being insecure; I wonder exactly what has him so unbalanced. I watch him shifting until the silence becomes unbearable.

"Charlie?"

He starts, almost as if he had forgotten that I was here. "Sorry," he says as he finally looks at me before he begins to talk. His speech is fast and I have to struggle to keep up. Ron and Hermione talked to him? He was curious?

"…..and I'm not sure if they really know, but, I hope, and I was wondering if maybe we can give it a try…."Charlie said with the last of his breath, his voice slightly strained.

I open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a strangled grunt.

His eyes dim slightly and he takes a deep breath before saying, "Oh. Ok then." He begins to turn away and I know that if I don't say something I'll have lost my chance.

"Wait!" I say quickly. "They were right." He looks at me hopefully.

"So, you want to try?" he asks, his voice thick.

I nod dumbly and, when his lips break into a blinding smile, I'm stunned, and my breath hitches, and I have no choice but to return the gesture with one of my own.

We talk for hours, I think, maybe – I only know that because we had to refresh the warming dome twice. It doesn't feel like hours, but then again I never have been able to keep track of time when I'm alone with Charlie – even though it doesn't happen often. Except now he's my…what is he exactly? My boyfriend? My partner? My lover? I blush as I think that he isn't yet, but hopefully will be soon.

"What?" he asks, his voice amused.

I shake my head. "Nothing," I say softly, still amazed that he is even slightly interested in me. I don't want to push; besides I know that we have a lot more to talk about before we take that step.

He chuckles quietly before he resumes his tale of his first few weeks at the reserve. I listen attentively to everything he has to say. I'm amazed by him, and I honestly believe that he could be standing here reading potions ingredients and theory from a first year book and I would be perfectly happy to stand here and listen.

It isn't until he brings up sex that I become worried. I knew this would happen. Of course he wants to discuss history.

"I'm not exactly….inexperienced," I say quietly, fear and reluctance obvious in my voice.

Charlie looks sharply at me before he smiles gently. "That's ok, neither am I."

I work to fight back the jealousy that surges and Charlie grins knowingly at me.

Sheepishly, I run a hand through my hair and flash a smile at him.

"So," he says, "do we want to do this now?"

I furrow my brow. "Do what?" I ask a bit naïvely.

He takes a deep breath and says, "Well, I know this is a bit awkward, but it is common practice to…..discuss previous encounters." His face nearly matches his hair by the end of the statement.

I groan quietly and run a hand over my face. I don't want to do this. I knew it was coming, but I had hoped that it would be at least a few days before I had to explain.

"Harry?" he questions, his face slightly concerned.

I nod, but I can tell that my face is still wary. "Please don't hate me," I whisper, still fearful and reluctant.

He chuckles and steps closer. "I could never hate you," he states earnestly. "I mean, it's not like you've been sleeping with anyone I know."

My eyes widen slightly and his amusement vanishes. "Or have you?"

My head drops and I nod miserably. "Yes," I say quietly.

"It's not by chance Hermione is it?" he asks in a slightly guarded voice.

With my eyes glued to the ground I shake my head silently.

"I see," he says and I can feel the anger and….jealousy?...rolling off of him as he turns to leave.

It takes less than a second for me to realize that if I just let him walk away I'll lose him forever, so I reach out and grab his arm. I panic and beg. I need him to listen – he doesn't have to understand, but I can't let him walk away without at least attempting to explain.

He pauses and I speak quickly. Everything comes falling from my lips, I tell him about Ron and how it began. I explain about how the first time I didn't go looking for sex. How I had only wanted the company of my best friend, and how scared I was. I told him about my confusion when Ron first kissed me – how I had previously thought something was wrong with me because I had never been attracted to girls.

I tell all of the embarrassing details of how I had only wanted to forget, even if only for a little while, so when Ron began to distract me I willingly allowed him, and tried to enjoy it, even though I knew it was wrong.

I bare everything to him. How I hate myself for what I've been doing. How many times I've promised myself not to go back. I tell him about my fears and insecurities and by the time I'm finished I can feel the tears running down my cheeks, but I refuse to look at him. I don't want to see the revulsion in his eyes. I know that he has every right to hate me; I've been using his brother for sex for years, even though I know I could never love him the way he wants me to.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie," I say quietly. "I never thought…." I trail off as a rough finger firmly pushes my chin up and forces me to meet his eyes.

"I know," he says simply before his fingers gently brush my tears away. "Just promise me something."

"Anything," I whisper, unable to believe my luck. There's no way he can forgive this so easily.

"Never again," he says. "Promise me that from now on I'll be the only one."

My heart skips a beat at what he's asking. He's telling me that he still wants me, even after I told him how heartlessly I used my best friend. "I promise," I dazedly whisper.

"Good," he says. "I refuse to share."

I can barely believe that he's still willing to give me a chance and, before my brain can catch up with what's happening, he has his arms around me, and he's in my arms, and he's kissing me, and it's like nothing I've ever felt.

I gasp slightly and Charlie takes the chance to deepen the kiss. My hands find their way into his hair as he pushes me against the shed and aligns his body with mine.

There are no fireworks, or stars, or sudden realizations, or angels singing, but I believe this must be the perfect kiss.

I moan quietly as he rolls his hips against mine, and am slightly surprised that I can literally feel his growing interest. I tear my lips from his in a desperate attempt to gain my breath, but Charlie attaches his mouth to my neck and my head thumps against the shed behind me.

He kisses and nips his way along my neck to a particularly sensitive spot behind my ear and I cry out his name.

He chuckles against my skin as I push my hips forwards, searching for any type of friction. "Please," I say breathily. I know I sound desperate, but I've been waiting for this for three years.

"What do you want?" he asks as he gently tugs my earlobe with his teeth.

"Everything," I say breathlessly.

I can feel him grin against my neck. "Everything?" he asks quietly.

I nod. "Yes. Charlie, I want everything with you." I swallow thickly as Charlie shifts to look in my eyes. "Please, if you're not interested, don't do this."

He smiles gently at me. "Of course I'm interested, love. I've been interested for as long as you have."

"Take me to bed?" I ask shyly.

..::..::..::..::..::..::

We're both unusually shy and awkward going to bed, and I'm surprised and slightly unnerved by the amount of silencing charms he knows.

Even using charms I refuse to have sex with him in his parents' house. It's a matter of respect, plus, even though I've waited for him this long, it doesn't feel right to take that step so soon. Besides, it gave us plenty of excuses to exercise our hands, mouths and tongues.

..::..::..::..::..::..::

"Do you want to tell anybody?" he asks nervously as we climb out of bed.

I pause long enough to study his face. I can't quite place what I'm seeing there, so I decide to answer as honestly as possible.

"It's not just my decision, but if it were, I would tell everyone," I say quietly as I take his hand into mine. "I love you, Charlie; I have for as long as I've known you. I don't want to hide this, I want to be with you in every way possible, and I don't particularly care who knows." I sigh softly. "However, I can understand if you don't want to tell anyone, at least not at first."

He studies me for five seconds before he smiles and pulls me into his arms and whispers softly into my ear, "I completely agree."

I shiver as his breath caresses my ear, and have to block the images of him breathing on various other parts of my body.

He chuckles and says, "Later, love," before handing me a pair of sleeping pants and an old Weasley sweater that surprisingly fit rather well, and was the same emerald green that Mrs. Weasley always makes mine.

Before we enter the kitchen, Charlie grasps my hand firmly, almost possessively, and leads me though the door. I start towards the table when he pulls me back and I'm surprised by the soft, tender kiss that he places on my lips. We hadn't decided how to tell the family, but by the shocked silence emanating from the room, I guess Charlie has gotten his point across.

I'm his.

He's mine.


End file.
